


Come Hell or High Water

by Chemical_Defect



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abandonment, Dark Thoughts, Implication Of Hallucinations, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Romance, repressed feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 00:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5686693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemical_Defect/pseuds/Chemical_Defect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John H. Watson's first meeting, and what ensues.<br/>Inspired by darlingtonsubstitution's video http://monikakrasnorada.tumblr.com/post/136959743012/joolabee-darlingtonsubstitution-i-made-a<br/>Prompted by Harriet on BBC Sherlock Fan Forum.</p><p>unbeta'd, unbritpicked.<br/>All errors are mine.<br/>And I quite obviously do not own those characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darlington substitution (SSmoohead)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SSmoohead/gifts).



Mr. Sherlock Holmes had an international reputation for his detective work, but he could not care less for his public image. The only element which held any interest to him was his profession, as it kept him and his brain involved and alive – _living_ was more accurate.

Throughout the numerous years he had been working, he had never understood the motivation anyone could have which could drive them to resort to commit a crime, be it theft, blackmail or murder.

Most of the time, basic criminals whom he brought to justice lacked originality and method in the realisation of their deeds, leading the detective to dismiss the emotional side of human actions of any kind to such an extent that he would extinguish the tiniest spark of interest he ever had in this regard.

He had elected early to focus solely on facts for, as a man of reason, he was unable to comprehend the intricacies of human emotions. He was more efficient than the best Inspector from the London metropolitan police force, who would concern themselves with finding an explanation to men’s actions thus deviating too much and too far from what really mattered: the resolution of the cases, and the facts which helped come to it, not wild fantasies and conjectures on human behaviour.

Only in reason lay truth.


	2. Chapter 2

An acquaintance introduced him to the character of Dr John Watson, an affable man, interested in caring for others as his profession indicated.  
It was out of pure practicality that he invited him to share his lodgings, not because of loneliness nor out of the goodness of his heart.  
Despite their differences of character, they soon struck a friendship which would led them to rarely be apart. Dr Watson would more often than not accompany him on his investigations, and his work was even more efficient than it was prior to meeting him.

In their rooms, his behaviour was the same as it had always been: solitary and detached, pursuing his interests, out of others’ schedules.  
Dr Watson had no opposition to his habits and interests save a 7% one, a subject on which he had made his position clear, and quickly noted that he was not in the least inclined to bettering his interactions with people. His fellow lodger, as a military man, knew a losing battle when he saw one, and decided not to insist on the matter any further.  
However, Dr Watson had taken upon himself to get him more involved in holding a schedule and taking a better care of his transport.

His views on human behaviour and the importance of _emotions_ and _feelings_ did not change.


	3. Chapter 3

The atmosphere which inhabited the lodgings evolved gradually.

He would still have objects of various origins cluttering the rooms, play his violin and run experiments at all hours. Since Dr Watson had elected to inhabit there as well, however, the disarray which had been in his apartment slowly receded.

Living was easier and so much warmer than it had ever been. The entertainment provided by Dr Watson’s personality seemed endless and ennui would plague him less. He would resort to extreme measures less and less often, to the great satisfaction of his companion, who would praise his genius and declare his perpetual amazement in the face of it all the more. Thus, darker than night thoughts were less frequent as well. He would not touch the strings of his violin to produce as many forlorn melodies. The music emanating from his playing would be lighter, akin to joy and contentment.

Dr Watson did not comment on it, however he noticed him smiling on more than one occasion. The warmth it brought him encouraged him to write, quite unconsciously, a piece dedicated to the kind-hearted man with whom he lived. He would later name it _Dr John Watson: The Light in the Dark._

His life had been considerably happier since Dr Watson had entered it, and never would be the same again.


	4. Chapter 4

Dr Watson was the most transparent of beings when it came to emotions. He may choose not to express them, but one could always tell what he was feeling. As for the reason why such emotions appeared was completely lost on him, Sherlock Holmes, the finest detective in England and the most observant of men. He had surmised that the red tainted cheeks, the unusual perspiration, quicker breathing and accelerated heartbeat were indicating of physical desire. However, knowing Dr Watson’s character, he was very much aware that it was not in his habit to feel any kind of physical desire if no feelings were present. Nor was it in his habit to exhibit signs of attraction towards a member of the masculine gender.

Dr Watson seemed to be more and more frequently in that state, especially if he was playing the violin. Not prone to listen to his heart, he dismissed the flutter he felt. For a time, the technique of ignoring it was effective, until Dr Watson returned to their lodgings one evening, flushed and clearly hiding a present. When he saw what the gift entailed, the detective was clueless in how he should react: empty sheet music on which he could write, a newer, finer violin bow and tickets for a symphony.

_Light has vanquished darkness_ , read the note.


	5. Chapter 5

 

The realisation of sentiment dawned and produced devastating effects on both of them for two very different reasons: he, a _detective_ , had –for shame!– not observed their development and Dr Watson was a gentleman. It was not in the nature of a gentleman to develop and succumb to the attraction of another gentleman.

Their romantic entanglement had not brought forth change to their lifestyle, they carried on living together as they had always done, investigating cases for the London metropolitan police, he would lounge in between cases while Watson would set up to his practice and they would retire for a holiday in the country.

 

He was very aware that the efficiency with which they conducted their detective work was bound to bring out the criminal classes’ resentment. While criminals did not present any originality to their nefarious acts, their observational skills should not be put down to a trifle and one should be most wary of them, lest ill-fated happenings came upon their persons.

He was not particularly inclined as to the passing of such an event. Since he had accepted feelings as important and Dr Watson even more so, he was so much less disposed to part with either.

Danger would, however, be their constant companion, the one which brought them together, separated them and brought them together again.


	6. Chapter 6

Evading those who meant either of them ill had been a strenuous activity through which they had not come unscathed. Holmes had had to disappear and leave a heartbroken doctor behind. Defeat was not a state to which he was accustomed, however he would gladly accept it if it ensured safety to those he loved – and he did.

He toured the continent, fighting fiercer and fiercer opponents and resolved not to return to Dr Watson before it was safe for them to be together again.

He later learnt that Dr Watson was faring as bad as he, despairing, withering in the absence of his companion, contemplating dark thoughts once more.

In order to alleviate the pain of the loss which was bleeding him out, he had answered to the siren call of old habits to which Dr Watson was so strongly opposed.

His enforced absence had nearly destroyed them both, sending Dr Watson back to an uneventful life and him to one laden with danger, which did not hold the same appeal without his trusted Boswell at his side.

The location they were in was of little consequence as long as they were together. Then, they would be the best of themselves and thrive.

 

Whatever the circumstances, it would always be the two of them against the rest of the world.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the work gets the mature rating for dark content.

 

A feeble light pierced through rainy clouds on the dreary day he had returned to his lodgings and his beloved companion.

Aware that neither of them were as emotionally strong as they were before his departure, he had hoped for a lighter, more luminous weather for their reunion, but reflected that the one they had suited their upcoming state of mind perfectly.

 

Although he was back on the English soil and his loved ones were safe, he found it especially difficult to revert to the simple, happy _feelings_ and _emotions_ he had before he embarked on that mission.

The tenderness and the burning passion he felt towards Dr Watson had not left him, although it was dulled with worry and fear, producing a bittersweet feeling.

 

Upon entering his and Dr Watson’s lodgings, a terrible anguish seized him. Never would Dr Watson and he have the relationship they had back.

He knew that Watson had suffered as much as he if not more so, and had become a mere shadow of himself. He was culpable of breaking him despite being fully aware –loathed though he was to admit to it- that Watson had been the one to make him complete, reveal the good man in him.

 

Should Watson reject him…life would no longer be of any interest or any appeal to him.


	8. Chapter 8

 

The atmosphere in the lodgings was as gloomy and dismal as his thoughts, and the lodgings themselves were as empty as he had been before he saw a light in the darkness.

 

From a reasoned point of view, it was a good situation to be in for it would give him time to reacquaint himself with the place.

 

It pleased him to see himself as a resilient man. However, the truth was a little different.

The time he had spent away from the one person who had made him aware that _feelings_ and _emotions_ were not a serious disadvantage had profoundly hindered the progress he had been making on that particular subject.

He could no longer ignore them as he used to, repress them to the point of complete denial.

Such as they were, they represented a danger for they were unrestrained, about to destroy the tenuous hold he had on them.

 

No sooner had he entered their shared living room that he was struck at how unmoved yet how _changed_ everything was.

The housekeeper had respected his order that nothing be dusted, both their armchairs were still here, facing each other in front of the fireplace, even the skull was still adorning the mantelpiece.

But Watson’s essence was no longer part of the tableau which used to comfort him so.


	9. Chapter 9

The reality of it was like a blow.

He was alone. Abandoned. Forsaken.

Left to the companionship of his demons.

 

He let his body fall on their settee, and landed with as much grace as a falling boulder.

Abated, distraught by the feeling of emptiness which had fallen over him, he remained on their settee, curled up as if seeking a solace he could not find in any other way.

 

Time seemed to pass in an even slower manner now that he was returned. It would not pass any faster when he was busy on the continent.

This, however, was an agonising torture, with devastating effects on morale as well as mental health.

The workers of this particular field would like it enormously.

 

The weak daylight outside the window turned into dusk then into night, but he had not moved an inch, vanquished as he was by his anguishes.

The weight on his mind had turned into a physical one which held him down, and rendered him unable as well as unwilling to move.

 

The empty darkness of his mind found an echo in the dark, empty living room which had once been a warm, welcoming hearth, a safe haven to Watson and him.

 

He thought that matters could not be any worse.

Then he heard a voice shouting his name.

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

“Holmes!” shouted a desperate voice on the stairs.

 

The sound of rushing footsteps made its way to his ears, but he did not register it.

Neither did he when the door to their lodgings was loudly opened.

 

“Holmes!”

 

The voice sounded as loud and desperate as before, shock and disbelief not making it any less strong. He still did not react, disbelieving as he was that – No. There shall be no hope. He was bound to be hurt once more.

 

He was the one hearing that voice, complete with all the inflections he knew it had. Watson would not set foot in their lodgings again. He had, after all, abandoned his post, deserted the premises, forsaken and ceased believing in him.

However improbable, the only solution to explain this was that the voice was in his head.

He was imagining it, as he was the smell of tea, wool and cinnamon.

 

The place had been filled with these smells just as much as the voice rang in it. Yet none of it could be real.

 

For the first time in a very long time, he resented his memory to be so vivid, accurate, and comprehensive. He blamed his brain for producing as hurtful memories as these.

 

He decided to flee where nothing could hurt him.

He would have to go deep.


	11. Chapter 11

 

He was pulled into a tight, suffocating embrace. It took him a few moments to realise that he was not being attacked, and a score more to return to reality.

 

Despite his senses being overcome by excess of information, he was able to discard the conclusion which he had previously reached.

The smell surrounding, enveloping him as well as the feeling of the embrace and the soothing sounds of the voice were too familiar to be mere figments of his imagination, fantasies of a reality which he had _had_ to bring to a close, notwithstanding the dire heartache which such a decision would bring forth.

 

Aside from peaceful, comforting sounds and broken sobs, silence resonated in the living room.

The need both Watson and he had for each other was as evident and irrefutable as the heat of the Sun was.

The importance they held in each other’s eyes amounted to the paramount necessity of breathing.

 

Still unwilling to open his eyes, he elected to return the embrace – as carefully as he could, lest the sweet and intense moment of reunion shatter and disappear, lost forever.

The caution of his touch quickly grew into a desperate, smothering passion to which Watson responded in kind, whispering tender words and devoted, amorous promises.

 

Light had shone through the darkness for both of them.


End file.
